Misadventures Of Scotland The Brave
by TygahstahLuvah33333
Summary: Oh God. In order to create publicity for the current world problems, Scotland the Brave and her fellow nations are being shipped around the world, city by city, for a year long press tour. That's 365 days, people. But she can survive... Right?
1. Why Scots Hate Mondays

The By-turns Hilarious And Angst-filled Misadventures of Scotland the Brave

Oh God. In order to create publicity for the current world problems, Scotland and her fellow nations are being shipped around the world, city by city, for a year long press tour. That's 365 days, people. But she can survive. She's Scotland the Brave. Right? Right?

Chapter 1: Why Scots Hate Mondays

Scotland walked into the World Meeting room with a nervous feeling in her chest. She didn't like meetings, as she was an introvert, claustrophobic, Denmark would be there, Norway would be there, Sweden would be there, France would be there… The list went on and on. Mostly it was because people would stare at her. Her dark-red hair, the golf club strapped to her back, and of course you couldn't forget the scar over her eye, clawing one forest-green iris into blindness. Although she was the oldest of the U.K., she let England take care of their matters. The two had been in fights in the past, but they'd worked out an agreement: he didn't tell her what to do, and she helped him with financial issues. The only reason she was going was because of Wales. The small fifteen year old country held her hand as they walked in. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, and gave her a small smile. She bent down, adjusted his small reddish-brown ponytail, pecked him on the cheek, and took their seats. England started presenting about the environmental state of their country. Scotland held back a yawn. France gave her a suggestive smile from across the room. She shot him a glare, and hit her golf club in the palm of her hand. Russia gave her an approving nod. Makoto sniffed at Kumajirou under the table. Her eyes drifted to the nation sitting across from her. The tall, blond, muscular, blue eyed, exceedingly sexy nation. Mentally, Scotland hit herself over the head with a golf club. Germany was a _friend_. Nothing more, she told herself. Even so, she continued to stare at him. After several minutes, excessive pencil scratching, a sharp cry of pain, a quiet "Aru?", a French chuckle, and several "Kols", a piece of paper was passed to her.

_Scotland and Germany, like, sitting in a bush-_

_Oh my god, Poland, it's tree. TREE. Bush does not rhyme with G!_

Scotland recognized Estonia's neat, compact handwriting.

_YEAH IT DOES, CAUSE, LIKE, I ACTIVATE THE POLISH RULE!_

_K-I-S-S-I-N-G-USH! SEE! _

_He has a point, Poland… _

_Like, shut up, Lithuania._

_It does not matter. You will all become one with Russia, da? Right, Latvia?_

_Yes…_

_You have a crush on Germany, aru? I can give you some advice if you want, aru! _

_So, the potato bastard…Scotland, I thought you had a goddamned brain. Stop hugging me, tomato bastard. _

_You two would be so cute together! Tomatoes! _

_Dude, you have a crush on Germany? Weird! I thought he bombed you and stuff! Which I saved you from 'cause I'M THE HERO!_

_Er, that's great Scotland… Can you please tell America and Kumojeryiou who I am? Or at least that I exist? I know you remember me…_

_Dude, I think there's a ghost sitting next to me… He smells like maple syrup._

_Aw, that's heterosexual, so there's no yaoi… Sad…_

_Hungary, you should support a pairing because they're your friends, not because there will be yoaii… Yoia… Yuoi… Yeaio? On other matters I have the perfect piano track for this._

_So, Ecosse is in love with Allemagne, non? If you change your mind, my bedroom is unlocked!_

_Cool, mon. Just remember to call me if you need bananas!_

_The standard of my culture demands that I say anything negative in the least offensive way I can. I'll think about it. _

_What's everyone talking about? Guess I'll never know… Want to come over and have pasta for dinner tonight?_

_If I support you two, will you recognize me as a country? And can I pet Makoto?_

_Could you get the crazy Italian and those three perverts to stop streaking on my lawn? It's compromising the innocence of Lichtenstein's eyes._

_To the un-awesome Switzerland: Scotland has no control over us! Well, she makes France horny, but that's another story. She'd be way more awesome if she dated me! But her lion scares me… _Scotland's day reached a new low as she read the last line.

_So you like me?_

Germany raised his eyebrows across the table. Scotland hit her head on the desk. Repeatedly. She lifted her head up, scribbled something on the paper and gave it to the German.

_I hate Mondays._


	2. When The Story Begins To Have A Plot

Chapter 2: When the Story Has SOME Sort Of Plot or The Advantages of Russian Friends

To Scotland's great relief, a group of world leaders entered the room looking rather pleased with themselves. Too pleased with themselves, mused Scotland. Obama walked up to the table of countries and cleared his throat. "Good news, ladies and... Well, actually, mostly gentlemen." "I resent tha'!" called an inebriated Ireland. "And I resent that I have to deal with you showing up everyday so drunk you can't even walk in a jagged line, let alone a straight on! Shut the hell up and let the poor man talk!" "Uh, thank you, Scotland... Anyway, we have arranged a year-long, world-wide publicity tour to bring awareness to the world's problems. All you countries will be taken around the world and have conferences. meetings, photo-ops, etc." Stuck in a tight space with every other nation in the world. Scotland gave Canada look that said, _On the count of three, bash my head in with a hockey stick, alright? _Obama finished his speech and left with the other leaders. The room broke into a frenzy of activity. Scotland felt a hand on her shoulder and detected the slight order of roses. _Shit._ "For the twentyseven thousandth, three hundredth and seventy-sixth time, I'm not sleeping with you tonight, nor will I ever." France ignored her comment and, putting an arm around her shoulder, slid into her chair. His arms were wrapped around her neck, his legs entwined with hers, his fingers tangled in her hair. "Oh, Ecosse, you are so adorable when you're feisty. It just turns me on." "Get the hell off me. Now." "Ah, but I rather like this seat, don't you?" Scotland wasn't entirely sure how she could get away from him without tipping the chair over. France had her in a well, let's just say _provocative_ position. Anyone would have thought they were lovers- unless they knew Scotland. Scotland leaned back and the chair wobbled. Before Scotland had a chance to say another word, France was lifted off her and into the air. "You will stop bothering my friend, da?" "I was just joking around... You know..." "Well, that doesn't matter. You are making her uncomfortable, so you are going to leave now." France took a few huge steps back and scrambled away. "Russia, I can't thank you enough, lad. Tell you what, I'll buy you a bottle of vodka when we get to a liquor store." The Russian nodded, his ashy hair falling in his eyes. "Think nothing of it. He was hitting on Ukraine yesterday anyways."

* * *

><p>Scotland had been sitting in the conference room for three hours. After the world leaders announced their news, there had been no hope of any order returning to the meeting, so everyone had just descended into chaos. Not that Scotland minded chaos. It made an excellent battle cover. It surprised a lot of people how many of her best strategies had come out of that one idea. But she was hungry. She got up, stretched, and announced into the mike (accidentally), "I'm gonna go get some lays." "SCOTLAND!" Wales did his traditional "Ooooh..." "What? I'm damn hungry!" "Oh.. Wait... Doesn't America have a potato chip brand called Lays?" There was a collective "Oh..." of recognition. Hungary went up to Scotland and started explaining something to her, but in Scotland's head, a crackly rendition of "Auld Lang Syne" played in her head, and she didn't hear a word. "Got it, Scotty?" "Oh, uh aye!" Hungary turned to Wales. "she din't get a word of that, did she?" "Nope. It always happens when ever anyone starts talking about so-called 'adult themes.' England calls it selective ADHD, but I think it comes from living France for so long..." The two Europeans watched the redhead search for a vending machine that took pence.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>BTW, the "selective ADHD" or "Scottish Truant" joke will occur repeatedly. Very repeatedly. Here's how I found out about the stereotype:<strong>

**Me: *is humming P!nk's U & Ur Hand***

**My Friend "Zee": Do you even know what that song's about?**

**Me: No, why?**

**Zee: Well, it's about *censor censor censor censor censor censor censor censor censor censor.***

**Me: Oh... Damn, I'm stupid.**

**Zee: No, you're just Scottish. **

**Me: Excuse me?**

**Zee: *explains stereotype***

**Me *looks up* It's true...**

**So just a little explanation. Bai!**


	3. Truth, Dare, or Death By Chainsaw?

Chapter 3: Truth, Dare, Or Death By Chainsaw?

_ Scotland's cheeks were flushed with heat, the covers caught around her legs. She panted slightly, leaning into her lover's stone-hard chest. He pushed her back down onto the mattress, pressing his lips against her own. She tangled her fingers in his long blond hair. The French nation's hands explored her every part, and she shuddered with pleasure. His every touch was like fire against her skin. Scotland pressed herself even closer to him, whilst his lips grazed over her bad eye. He was whispering French in her ear, and suddenly-_

_"_SCOTTY!"

"Murron, no!" called Scotland, having just entered a scene from _Braveheart_. She shook her head, making her copper-toned mane fly. Wales stood over her, his cherry-wood hair neatly combed.

"Wales, wha' the hell..."

"It's time to wake up. You slept late. As can be evidenced by your clock reading 10:30."

"Sorry, lad... Hey, what's tha' smell?' queried the Gaelic nation, her mind still half asleep.

"Oh, that's Angus. He needed a flea bath."

* * *

><p>Having gulped down some sort of breakfast and gotten dressed, Scotland loped down the hallway and entered the elevator. Angus was awake and lively, but Makoto was leaning against the side of the lift. He had never been one for mornings. When she entered the lobby, every single country in the large room was staring at her. Jamaica looked up from his banana. Colombia looked up from her coffee. Canada looked up from his pancakes. America bounded up to her and yelled,<p>

"Hey! You have one too!"

"What are you talking abou- oh."

_She had forgotten her hat. _Sticking up from where her golf cap would normally be was a spiky tuft of red hair, aka the Shetland islands. _Shit. _Scotland ran upstairs, stuffed her hat on her head, and dashed back down.

* * *

><p>Since they were in Moscow, of course Russia had gotten some high-quality vodka. Being Scottish, she wasn't drunk yet, but almost everyone else was. She was leaning in a corner, sipping the liquor, watching everyone else make fools of themselves. England was singing "Cowboy Casanova" by Carrie Underwood, causing France and America to argue who he was singing about.<p>

"See? COWBOY!"

"It also says 'snake with blue eyes', you little..."

China was giving Korea a piggy back ride, while yelling, "RIDE THE DRAGON!", whatever _that_ meant. The two Italians were streaking. Scotland took another sip of vodka. Life was good. Three figures popped up beside her, one of them slinging an arm around her shoulder.

"Hey, well if isn't Scotland the Brave."

"I thought her national anthem was 'Scottish Flower'."

"Even better, non?"

Scotland rolled her eyes. The banes of her existences, parts un, deux, and trois. Also known as the Bad Touch Trio, or "GET OFF MY BLOODY LAWN, YOU GODDAMNED PERVERTS!"

"Officially, I don't have one."

"Whatever! Do you want to play the awesome game of truth or dare?"

Scotland shrugged.

"Fine, just make sure France doesn't touch me."

"I'm not guaranteeing anythi- all right, just let go of my neck..."

Prussia grabbed one of the many vodka bottles lying around and spun it. It landed on France with a clatter.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth, sil-vouz plais."

"Who was the best lover you ever had?"

"Mon dieu, that's a hard one..."

"The fact that you have to think about it for that long just proves how perverted you are."

"You were pretty high up there, mon cher..."

Spain spun the bottle, which landed on Scotland.

"Aw, to hell with it, I pick dare."

Prussia had an evil smirk which almost made Scotland regret her choice. Almost.

"Give me your phone. Spain'll pick a random contact, and you have to text them this: _I'm naked and thinking of you."_

Scotland gave him a death glare, but handed the phone to Spain. He pressed a few buttons.

"Wait, who'd you send it to?"

"You have to figure that out."

She promptly recieved a text, which read:

**Option** **one**:** What the hell did france put in your drink**

**Option two: So am I**

Everyone (except Spain) exchanged a bewildered glance. _Who the hell was it?_

**option 2 please**

**Holle ja**

**germany?**

**who else?**

**What do you mean? **

**italy I've had a thing for you forever**

**this is scotland**

**oh schiesse...**

**there goes your closet**

**don't tell anyone please**

**the BTT are here but i have a grenade in my pocket**

**of course you do**

"That was probably the weirdest conversation I've ever had," said Scotland, with a strange expression.

"Ciao! What are you guys doing? Does it involve food?"

"Playing truth or dare, mon cher."

Scotland shot France her best I-am-a-mother-wolf-don't-mess-with-my-cubs-you-stinking-pervert-or-you're-going-to-hell-in-the-next-two-seconds glare. She was kinda protective. Of a lot of people. Wales, Canada, Italy, Ireland, Northern Ireland and although she would never admit it, England.

"I pick truth! And can it be one that we all do?"

"Sure, you little tomatita! Prussia can pick!"

"And there goes any hope of me not killing anyone," muttered Scotland disparagingly.

"Who did you lose your virginity to?"

"Um...It was so long ago I cannot remember..."

"France, you goddamned bastard, although it was the act I regret most in my life. And there's a lot of things I regret."

Italy gave a cute grin.

"France nii-chan!"

"Um, non, I think you-'

"No, it was you big brother, I'm certain!"

Here comes Mama Wolf. Scotland pulled out her phone and sent this text to Germany and Romano:

**URGENT France took Italy's virginity**

The text she recieved from Romano had swears that she couldn't say in a George Carlin routine. Germany came running down the stairs, armed with a shotgun. Scotland rolled her eyes.

"You're going to need better then that if you want to terrify the douchebag," she quipped, pulling out a wicked-looking chainsaw.


	4. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

Hello, everyone. I can't apologize enough for the late updates, but I have had enormous amounts of trouble lately. My mom yells constantly at me and my brother, and it's awful. I have ADHD, so I lose stuff a lot and am constantly forgetful, so she gets mad very easily. As a result, I often am crying in my room, going "god help me," or helping my brother. This causes me to be very emotional over strange things because I'm afraid my mom will be mad at me if she finds out, apologize for everything, and often be very nervous when she wants to help me with my homework, thinking, "please don't hurt me." She thinks I'm hiding something, I just want to get out dry-eyed. that, or she's yelling at my younger brother. Usually, I can distract her and help him with his homework as well as my own. I'm not sure if it qualifies as verbal abuse or just rough times, but all I know is that it's incredibly hard to go through life scared of your own mother. It's not all the time, but it's terrifying when it happens. Thank you for your patience.

-Tygah


	5. VHAT ZE FUCK!

**Chapter 4: VHAT ZE FUCK?**

* * *

><p>When Germany walked into the meeting room, he found Romano in a meat tuxedo, Wales and Italy singing the most annoying song he'd ever heard, China trying to fit Makoto into an Scottish Nyan Cat outfit, England clad in only Union Jack boxers playing guitar, Brazil and Jamaica having a bongo competition, America buck naked in a cowboy hat and an Old-West style gun, France doing things to Canada that can't be described here, Russia sitting in a throne made of vodka bottles, Prussia in a gorilla costume, Italy tied upside down and hanging from the chandilier, China and Hungary having a heavy metal objects fight, Austria shining Switzerland and Liechtenstein's shoes, Poland in a hula skirt and nothing else, Japan and Greece making out, and Scotland and Spain sobbing over a laptop.<p> 


End file.
